


Crewing the Dutchman

by Letterby



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: All the guilt, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Elizabeth Swann, Bootstrap's A+ parenting, Elizabeth is awesome but Elizabeth has issues (and her issues have issues), F/M, Guilt, Jack is the only one who can effectively crew a ship, M/M, Moving On, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trans Character, Will hasn't met a sand pile he hasn't wanted to bury his head in, slow burn relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28963887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letterby/pseuds/Letterby
Summary: They don’t talk about how Elizabeth joined the crew.It is an easy thing to avoid as they don’t talk much about anything.That all changes when Jack joins the crew.Relationships are hard. Being on a ship whose purpose is to ferry the damned to their final resting place doesn't make them easier, especially when you don't know how everyone got there. And no one is talking.
Relationships: Jack Sparrow/Elizabeth Swann/Will Turner
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

They didn’t talk about how Elizabeth joined the crew. 

It was an easy thing to avoid as they didn’t talk much about anything.

Will mused that it was hard to find the time between ferrying the souls of those who died at sea to the afterlife (along with the assorted mundanities involved in crewing a ship as large as the Dutchman) and avoiding his father in an attempt to ignore how stilted their conversation had become. And even if he could find the time, what could he even ask?

He supposed he could have commented on her paleness (blood loss or just time spent in the water?), the anger he could see in the lines of her face (or was it despair?). He could have mentioned the gently roundness of her belly (bloat? Definitely bloat) or the habit she had acquired of standing with one hand not quite on her hip, the fingers curving and pressing inwards as if to ease a pain. He could have asked her any number of questions when she came aboard and immediately declared herself to be part of the crew.

He knew better than to ask.  


___  


Days on the ship were long and hard. She wasn’t used to **crewing** on a ship. The time she had spent on the Hai Peng (both as its captain and the time she spent as passenger/prisoner) had taught her something about leading, about giving orders and maintaining that hard line so necessary when you were in charge of pirates, but it taught her little in the way of the mechanics. 

She could give directions but she found following them substantially harder particularly when the only person to teach her was Bootstrap. He was hardy (as would be expected of any man who had sailed for over a decade on a pirate ship) and he held the same suspicions that Gibbs had been known to trumpet which bled over into if not quite a dislike, then a distrust of her and a near constant belittlement of her abilities. 

He couldn’t (or wouldn’t) understand that Elizabeth was trying but lacked some of the upper body strength he and his son took for granted. Pulling the halyard (even with the winch) to raise the sail was a hard, manual task and that was even before taking into account the pain she continued to feel (she had thought the pain would cease when she joined the Dutchman. She regretted she was wrong about that.) 

He thought she was slacking. He yelled a lot (no more than she had seen/heard on other ships but back then it had never been directed at her). She thought about shouting back, arguing or explaining but she knew it was pointless. Will just nodded when the discord reached his ears, used to the pirate's life and (she presumed) not willing to take sides in an argument between his wife (was she still that?) and his father.

He hadn’t asked her about how she came to be on board.

She assumed he didn’t want to know the specifics. 

She was reasonably sure he was guessing the wrong generalities though. Men always thought so selfishly. He would assume she had wanted to **join** him, couldn’t live **without** him. He would be wrong.

She sometimes thought Calypso had the right idea. Who would wait 10 years to see someone again? Why should she wait for someone who wouldn’t age whilst she did? Who would want to grow old alone? Who would be expected to honour their vows in a situation like that? Who would give up living their life to wait around for some else to live theirs?

But he didn’t ask.

And she didn’t tell.  
\---

The silence between the crew members continued.

Bootstrap and the Captain avoided one another, speaking the occasional pleasantry beyond what was necessary to keep the ship running but not often willing to exchange even that (and definitely not more).

Elizabeth grew callouses on both her hands and her ears. She continued to struggle with the more manual tasks but she was starting to find it easier to ignore Bootstrap’s anger and discomfort with having a woman on board (no matter that she was his son’s wife. She was still Will’s wife, wasn’t she?). Her reduction in responses seemed to be encouraging Bootstrap to change his tactics though. She would need to watch for that.

Will kept a guard on his heart, speculating in his mind over what caused Elizabeth to join the crew but not wanting to prod sore wounds (it was her burden, his mind would parrot in her voice when he thought too hard about it.) She showed no sign of wanting to pick up their relationship again and he didn’t want her to feel pressured. He was the captain and she had to obey his orders if she wanted to remain on the ship. He couldn’t put her in that position. He wouldn’t. And really, what else was there to speak about?

___

They still danced together as they had done on their wedding day.

Some ships were beset by mermaids or monsters and they were permitted to interfere in the living world if the attackers were supernatural in origin (a little quirk that made Will tilt his head in thanks to Calypso as otherwise the day job would become a little too monotonous and a little too maddening for a whole eternity). Their knowledge of the other’s actions made them nearly impossible to beat when they were fighting back to back (and they both enjoyed this small chance to remember their shared joy prior to joining the crew).

It helped that Bootstrap would guard the Dutchman on those few occasions when fighting was required. Will had considered what it meant that he and Elizabeth felt easier (happier?) when his father was not around but the idea that he might have to choose between the two made him promptly ignore the conclusions his brain arrived at (there was no way his father was the reason his marriage was collapsing).

So they danced and they killed and they revelled in the joy of their successes.

And they still didn’t talk. 

\---

That all changed when Jack joined the crew.

\---

It was an ordinary day (or as ordinary as you could get when you sailed a boat that ferried the dead to their final resting place) when the Call arose, deep in Will’s gut as always. He imagined the feeling as a bite on a fishing line where the line was wrapped around his insides rather than on a rod (and yes, that was just as painful as it sounds). He passed the orders onto Bootstrap to make sail (and fast). The longer the Call went on, the more painful the tug on his innards became and the harder it was to concentrate. This Call, he sensed, was coming from quite some distance away so they would have to make haste if they wanted Will to be useful for anything other than projectile vomiting. 

He ignored the noise of outrage from Elizabeth as his father manhandled her out of the way to hoist the mainsail faster. She had been with the crew long enough to understand that sometimes Will needed them to move fast and they couldn’t afford to lie around waiting until she finally completed the task assigned to her when his father could do it much faster (and without the complaints).

He ignored the other tug that arose with that thought. The one closer to his the top of his chest. The one that pulled at the scar. (The one that went with the voice in the back of his mind that suggested he was being stupid again. The voice he didn’t want to acknowledge. He ignored it too.)

They found Jack floating on his back in the middle of nowhere (Will was relatively sure they were still in the Caribbean, but he would be hard pushed to tell you exactly where. Land (and hence location) didn’t matter much when you weren’t allowed to set foot on it and your destination was controlled by a feeling in your gut). It wasn't the first time Will had had to collect a friend's soul (it wasn't even the twentieth) but it didn't get easier.

And this was Jack.

That made it so much harder (even if he wouldn't allow himself to think why that was).

Will let out a sorrowful moan before his duty reminded him to kick out the Jacob’s ladder. He made to climb down to collect the soul but startled when Jack’s hand grasped the bottom rung first. He climbed up hand over hand before flopping over onto his back on the deck.

“Don’t suppose you have any rum, mate?”

“Jack Sparrow, why am I not surprised?” came Elizabeth’s voice from behind them startling Will (he told himself he was startled by her sudden appearance rather than because he hadn’t heard her voice in a long time. He lied).

The grin on her face was echoed by Jack. 

“The darling Elizabeth. Fancy meeting you here, love. I would have expected you to remain on that fair isle we located for you, mooning about over your dear William and keeping house until his return. Never would have expected this of you.”

His eyes were too knowing and she dropped her gaze mumbling something inaudible as she turned away to attend to a sail which had started to luff.

“Yes, people do change.” Floated after her. 

Damn Jack, and damn his good hearing. 

\---

“Well that, was interesting.” Jack commented as he accepted Will’s hand and clambered to his feet. “So, what’s the story there then?”

Will hadn’t missed the pauses in Jack’s speech, he told himself.

And he hadn’t missed the sight of the pirate either.

“Never you mind. Why are you here, Jack?”

“Well, William. I would think as the Captain of this fine vessel, renowned over the seas for ferrying poor unfortunate souls who die at sea to their final resting places that if anyone should know why I was here, it would be you.” 

The raised eyebrow and sardonic twist to Jack’s mouth had also not been missed.

“That’s not what I meant.” Will retorted. “Ordinarily, most souls we carry don’t notice us. We take them on board and deliver them to the other side but they act like sleep walkers. You are awake.”

“And always will be, mate. I’m Captain Jack Sparrow after all. Nothing ordinary about me, savvy?”

“There’s only one captain on board the Flying Dutchman, Jack. You know that. There’s no room for more …” 

Will’s speech was interrupted by a yelp of indignation from the winch where his father and Elizabeth were working.

“But there **might** be room for another crew member, might there? Possibly some kind of first mate type arrangement?” 

The wiggling fingers as Jack tried to work his magic were also on the list of things Will did not miss.

Elizabeth stormed passed them and slammed the door leading to the forecastle behind her.

The silence echoed around them broken only by the sound of glass smashing from the crew’s quarters.

“Jack?” Will waited until the pirate looked at him before holding out his hand. “Welcome aboard.”

\---

Jack kept a watchful eye around him as William showed him to the officers’ quarters, the door opposite the one Elizabeth had just marched through. 

“The Missus not sharing the Captain’s quarters, then?” Jack could feel his eyes lighting up with glee when William winced. “My my, distance really **must** make the heart grow fonder if the two of you are occupying opposite ends of the ship. Should I make sure there’s good soundproofing on my quarters for the occasional reunion?”

The blush that stained the good captain’s cheeks was endearing and entertaining in equal measure. 

“It’s not like that.” He growled.

“Well, pray tell me, what is it like then, dear William?” 

Someday, Jack mused, it would not be so much fun to pick upon the whelp. But until that day …Jack grinned.

“It hasn’t been long since she came aboard. I’m letting her adjust.” 

As William seemed suddenly fascinated by the grain of the wooden table, Jack would have had some inkling that he was lying. 

That was, if he hadn’t known he was lying already.

“You see, that’s where you lose me. A little birdy told me that the illustrious Missus Turner was lost at sea some six months ago so unless you allowed her to wallow in the tide for a significantly longer period of time than you did me, you should have had plenty of time to reconcile in that grandiose way that fairy tales tell you about. Lovers parted and reunited and all that? 

Dear William, you were never very good at lying and time alone on this ship clearly hasn’t improved your skills.”

“I haven’t been alone!” shouted the whelp, outrage clear in his voice.

“Oh yes, you’ve had the souls of the dead, who, you’ve already mentioned, talk and act like sleep walkers. I'm sure they're delightful conversationalists. 

Then you have the Missus, or is it ex-Missus? Who from the way she is not sharing your quarters certainly implies that she is ready (and willing) to engage you in common discourse whenever you should have need of companionship . 

And finally your father, dear old Bootstrap. Who abandoned you to go pirating. Who made you have to give up your mortal life (and a happily ever after with the here to fore mentioned Missus Turner) to save his immortal soul which, by the way, he was quite happy to sell away following his mutiny against me, not that I hold any grudges there, mate. The man who within a few minutes of my arrival on this ship managed to propel the enchanting Elizabeth into a rage which made her lose control of what I happen to know personally is a delightfully dexterous tongue and storm off.

Yes, it **definitely** sounds like you’re not alone.”

The punch to the wall came as a surprise to Jack only because he had expected one to his face.

\---

Jack had decided discretion was the better part of valour (the code mentioned never annoying a man more than was reasonable when he had access to a sword and the temper to use it) and retreated to the main deck. Bootstrap was at the helm. Jack cast his eyes that way but decided to address the issue of his first mate-ship (and the mutiny, not that he held a grudge or anything) later. 

He swaggered across the deck noting in an abstract way that the rigging of the main mast could do with being overhauled and promising himself to address that later. The main deck could also do with a good swabbing but with the limited crew members, it had probably been considered less essential. Now that Cap-…First Mate Sparrow was on the job, he could sense a nice parcel of work he would be assigning to good ol’ Bootstrap later. 

He headed into the forecastle keeping a weather eye out for any flying glassware. From the sounds of things earlier, the darling Elizabeth was feeling a mite irritated and he would hate to have to pick glass shards out of his hair later if she had found more breakable items to use as ammunition.

“Well, love.” He began, leaning against the entrance to the crew quarters. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

Elizabeth looked up from her bunk, her eyes unexpectedly dry but showing a hardness he couldn’t remember being present before.

“Jack.” She looked as if she wanted to say more but instead shut her lips and screwed her mouth small.

“Come now, love. If I can forgive you killing me, I can dare say whatever words you’re holding back I can forgive as well.”

The last thing Jack expected was to suddenly have an armful of Elizabeth.

\----

Elizabeth wasn’t entirely sure what had possessed her. 

She had spent some time in her bunk seething on the most recent vitriol from Bootstrap (“Women belong in the kitchen and in the birthing room, not taking up valuable room on a ship”) and was getting prepared to head back out and receive their new direction from Will when Jack appeared. 

She wanted to tell him she was glad to see him.

She didn’t know how he’d react (she didn’t think he’d be happy). Jack’s dream of immortality had been cut short. He wouldn’t appreciate her joy at seeing him. He might think she was **glad** he was dead (she would never be glad of that. She would never forget the look on his face as she handcuffed him to the mast and left him to die) but she was glad he was with her (even if he wasn’t **with** her, no that ship had sailed. More precisely that ship had sailed and was promptly eaten by a kraken. And it was her fault).

She didn’t expect him to forgive her. 

She didn’t expect him to know that she wanted (needed) his forgiveness or to even recognise that forgiveness was a thing!

That still didn’t quite explain why she was pressed against him so tightly she could hear the door creaking with the additional strain. It didn’t explain why she was babbling that she was happy to see him but not like this (never like this), that she wasn’t happy he was dead but she was happy he was here.

She didn’t expect him to stroke her hair and mutter something which she assumed was a variation of “there, there”.

She didn’t expect that her face would still be utterly devoid of tears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are more problems on this ship that just how they got there and Jack doesn't mind stirring the pot.

When Will felt his ire subside, he found the officer’s quarters to be in something of a state. He couldn’t possibly have done all this damage (what had the desk done to deserve suddenly being legless, anyway?) and he would certainly never have acted so violently in response to a few words from an old friend. Then again, Jack had always been able to bring out that rage in him, even if it had mostly resulted in sword fights rather than property damage. He made a mental note to tidy the quarters later and, oops, patch that hole in the wall. 

Will, becoming aware of the pain in his hand, casually began to pick the worst offending splinters from his knuckles as he headed down the gangway to the main deck. One advantage of captaining the Dutchman was the rapid healing of wounds however the hasty closing of wounds sometimes worked against him. Will had previously ended up with more than one piece of wood under his skin after a fight and taking a knife to your own flesh to cut it back out was never fun.

He distractedly noted the absence of Jack and Elizabeth as he headed up to the helm to relieve Bootstrap. 

“New heading, captain?” His father’s voice was reassuring to hear after Jack’s outburst. 

“No, no new Call as yet. I just felt like taking the helm for a bit.”

Will’s sometime restlessness was well known between them. He didn’t need to explain that he wanted the time to think, not to his father at least. Bootstrap give a quick nod of his head before stepping to the side allowing Will the helm. Will felt more at peace with his hands on the trusty wheel and the smoothly sanded grain of the wood gliding under his hands. It made him feel more himself, more grounded (which, he mused, was funny considering he was afloat).

As the sun began to touch the horizon and the first clouds began to take on an amber hew, he sighed contentedly. He understood his purpose on the Dutchman. It didn’t matter what Jack said about being alone, he had everything he needed here. He would want for nothing more.

The sigh seemed to be the sign Bootstrap had been waiting on to speak. 

“You know she doesn’t want to be here, right m’boy?”

His father’s words hurt (but then, the truth always did). He had talked many an hour with Bootstrap before Elizabeth had joined them. He knew everything Will did about what occurred between Jack and Elizabeth when Will had been on the Dutchman the first time around. He knew about that last kiss and how Will had decided if Jack was what Elizabeth needed, he’d ensure he was brought back.

He knew about Will’s abrupt about turn regarding their marriage and his reasoning. If he hadn’t had Barbossa marry them then, he knew he could still lose her to Jack (after all, who would choose him when they had the option of Captain Jack Sparrow?).

He didn’t want to lose her again (he was losing her again).

His father was right. Elizabeth didn’t want to help with the ship. She rarely put in any effort and when she did, she dallied or complained about the task. This wasn’t the first time she had stormed off to mope in the crew’s quarters. He should ask her about it (he wouldn’t ask her about it). He should have made peace and let her go when he left her on the island rather than leaving his heart behind.

He should let her go now. (He couldn’t let her go.) He had to let her go.

“Now that Jack’s here, she wouldn’t be alone on the other side. You **know** this. Neither of them have signed up for an eternity like I have, Will. You can’t keep them here. They should be at peace.”

As always, Bootstrap’s words hurt. 

The truth always hurts.

___

Elizabeth’s composure came back to her slowly. 

She noticed Jack was still stroking her hair before she realised they were now entangled on a bunk.

She noticed the pain in her belly before she noticed the hardness against her back. The hardness against her back… 

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Jack!” She rolled away from him and onto the ground in a smooth motion before turning to glare at him. 

He was just as she’d pictured he would be, smug smile, wicked eyes and his hands waving in a surrender gesture.

“You can hardly blame me, love.”

She couldn’t remember ever wanting to slap a smirk off someone more. She instead counted to ten (as dealing with Bootstrap had taught her was the best thing to do when irked) before putting one hand on her hip (and if she pressed it in a little, it was hardly noticeable) and pointing her other at the door.

“Oh come now, Elizabeth. There’s no need to be getting so upset when you were the one who threw herself at me.”

“Because I was glad you were here! It was **not** some kind of sordid invitation.” She interjected.

“Can’t blame a man for trying,” He shrugged himself into an upright position as she reminded herself that slapping him wouldn’t do her any good (and would just hurt her hand). “So, are you on the night watch then and that’s why you retreated to your quarters?”

“Bootstrap says we don’t need a night watch.” She had asked him about it before (back when she still asked questions, before he _encouraged_ her to reconsider the need for questions). “Women can’t be trusted to stand watch in the dark and he didn’t want to take permanent night duty so…” She shrugged her shoulders at Jack, feeling her face contort into what she was sure was an unpleasant smile.

“Right, well then. That’s one thing the new First Mate can attend to right away.”

\---

Jack wasn’t entirely sure what had annoyed him more. The lack of a night watch (what moron didn’t set watch? Yes, it was a magic ship for ferrying the dead but what if they hit a reef? Or spotted another ship? Or land? Unless things had changed very recently, ships couldn't steer themselves!) or the fact that Elizabeth was clearly quoting Bootstrap with her “can’t be trusted” statement. 

Problems between the crew were definitely something that fell under his remit as First Mate (even if the crew besides him only consisted of two people ...plus William... Hmmmm, two people plus the good captain. That could be a very entertaining afternoon). Sadly, his musings were interrupted by a harpy screech.

“First what??!!” Or maybe it was just Elizabeth getting back to her old self (somewhat).

“First Mate. My dearest Elizabeth you really must learn to listen better.”

“Now you sound just like him,” her face had shut off again and she crossed her arms defensively.

Jack smelled something bigger than a minor disagreement and he was going to need to ask questions about what was going on between his crew mates.

But not just yet. 

Jack may have been known for his spur of the moment plans but that didn’t mean he was adverse to a little quiet information gathering.

\---

“Captain,” Jack was swaggering towards him from the crew’s quarters with an expression Will has cause to fear. That was his ‘I’m going to do something I shouldn’t but I’ll do it anyway because it’ll be funny” face (not that Will had catalogued his faces or anything. It was just good to know when to expect mischief and/or mayhem). 

“I'd like to have a little tête-à-tête regarding some recent information that has come to light regarding your watch system, or more precisely, your lack thereof. Y'know, as your First Mate.”

And there was the mischief (at least the face cataloguing gave him some warning, even if it wasn't much). He heard a noise of outrage behind him from where his father was attending to some ropes. 

“ **I** am his First Mate.” His father’s growl could put all other growls to shame.

“Sorry Bootstrap. Apparently mutineers are usually considered to be inadequate and an alternative has to be appointed. And if you think your actions were not inadequate, I have several considerations for you, not least of which is the lack a watch schedule, the state of the decks, the need for an overhaul of the rigging around the main sail and the currently woeful condition of the mizzen sail, savvy?”

Will hadn’t expected Jack would be in any way a **useful** First Mate but looking around at the state of his ship (and the things Jack had identified that Will hadn’t noticed were wrong), maybe he was best placed to do so? Will could swing a sword with the best of them and was captain (essentially) by default but it had been Jack that taught him how to sail in the first place. 

“As I told the princess when she whined at me herself before hiding behind you, women can’t **handle** a night watch. They’re scared of the dark and can’t be trusted at the helm. Plus, m’boy would let us know if there was any danger coming to the Dutchman so we have no need for one regardless.” 

Bootstrap clapped Will on the shoulder. Will suspected if his father could see his face that he wouldn’t have (the idea of Elizabeth being scared of the dark was ludicrous as was her hiding behind anyone! And why wouldn't she be trusted at the helm?). Will slid under the hand and turned to ask him (politely through gritted teeth) but Jack interrupted before he could.

“You should speak to your captain with more respect than that, cur, even if he wasn’t the only thing keeping you from your eternal slumber. And I think Anamaria would have a thing or two to say about women not being allowed near the helm, and none of it would be pleasant and most of it would be accompanied by a sword thrust to a very delicate place.”

“Of all people, he definitely shouldn’t have been on watch never mind allowed to captain a ship!”

Jack drew his sword at that and his father drew his in return. Will’s blood was still boiling at the earlier comment about women being afraid of the dark and incapable at the helm so he wasn’t following the conversation close enough to know why swords were being drawn over it but this had gone far 

“ENOUGH!” The boat shook along with his yell and the rigging pinned both men’s sword arms to their sides.

\---

The shaking was what roused Elizabeth out of her thoughts (they had been going in circles between Jack and Bootstrap and the possibility of change in their neatly ordered lives and whether it would be a good change or Jack would be a worse First Mate that Bootstrap was managing). She wrapped one arm around her waist against the ache the shaking had roused, massaging her stomach with her wrist as she stumbled out of the forecastle onto the deck. She ended up on one knee as she tried to keep steady, warily keeping an eye on the steps beside her for any more rope movement (she didn’t want to join Jack and Bootstrap in their bindings). 

Will looked livid (the anger had flushed his face so it was not unlike when he flushed with …no, never mind. Not the time for those thoughts). She staggered to her feet and made her way towards the other three. 

“Jack is my First Mate. How the ship is run in future is up to him. You will need to show him some respect, Bootstrap. And me.” Will’s voice was calmer than she expected but she knew the quiet tones were his most irate. Every word seemed to be being bitten off so sharply she expected his tongue to get caught in his teeth (no, stop thinking about his tongue Elizabeth. He’s not yours any more, is he?). “I do expect you to behave like an adult though, Jack. And drawing your sword over a quarrel between crew members is not very adult.”

“He deserved it, mate.” Jack’s face could curdle milk. She didn’t know the pirate was capable of an expression that dark. She was beginning to feel like she didn’t know him at all (then again, she knew him enough to kill him. Maybe she knew enough. She wish she knew what the argument was about). "If I catch him talking about Anamaria like that again, I won't let you stop me from running him through."

“Yes you will, Jack. I am still captain on this vessel and you **will** act like it.” Will’s voice remained quiet and dark, full of bitter promise. “How do you want to organise your watches, First Mate?”

Oooh, that was a bad sign for Jack. Will only went formal when he was well and truly hacked off. On the plus side, he did release the ropes binding the two men (then again, maybe he didn't trust himself to keep them bound).

“We really need more crew before I can make a good schedule, captain. Have you considered recruiting? Maybe some of our former acquaintances would like a chance of a different demise? For example, I imagine Master Gibbs would jump at the opportunity to avoid a peaceful afterlife in exchange for a piracy based one. Oh don't give me that look. I don't mean now, but for the future, perchance when the time comes? The bell tolls for us all in the end but let’s not go encouraging anyone to join us prematurely.”

It hurt when Will’s eyes flicked to her (as if weighing the impact of Jack’s words on her “delicate psyche”. **Clearly** the only reason she was here was because of his encouragement). His look hurt more than the reminder of Gibbs did (and substantially less than Jack’s other words). After all, she did **not** join him voluntarily, no matter what he thought. 

\---

“Gibbs is dead, Jack.” 

Will tried to cushion the blow as best he could, but there was no easy way to tell your friend his partner in crime was gone.

“We ferried him two weeks ago. He was as deeply asleep as most we collect or I may have offered. At least he’s at peace now.”

The expressions crossing Jack’s face were rapid and hard to decipher. Grief was definitely in there, Will decided. As was longing (his father was right, he should let Jack go to his own peace) but fear seemed to be the strongest. No, not fear. Terror.

“Jack?” Elizabeth’s hand was on Jack’s arm but he didn’t seem to notice. She seemed concerned about what the expression meant too. What could scare the great Captain Jack Sparrow?

“He must have had another boat,” whispered Jack. The blood was draining out of his face rapidly. “That no good, cut throat, dim-witted, rat tailed, mouse begotten, randy son of a goat herder.”

At least that’s what Will thought the mutters translated to. Jack could get quite incomprehensible when you let him ramble on so it was important to cut him off before he worked up a head of steam. As if in response to his thoughts, Elizabeth slapped Jack firmly when he paused for breath. She looked surprised at herself (which was nothing next to Jack’s expression ) but it did break his flow enough for Jack to look Will dead in the eye.

“The heart. Barbossa has your heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. The chapter count has increased. These people just keep opening more plot points I want to address. Hopefully it'll stay at four (then again it was originally supposed to be a one-shot).
> 
> All kudos/comments/queries/speculations welcome (and thanks for reading so far)  
> Letterby


End file.
